


Tastes of Red

by Woodface



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:37:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3435464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woodface/pseuds/Woodface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angie would recognise Peggy's lipstick anywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tastes of Red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily/gifts).



> @distaff requested Angie/Peggy fic and she wanted something involving lipstick. This is what happened.
> 
> Thanks to avesnongrata for the beta and the wine suggestion.

Angie would recognise Peggy's lipstick anywhere. She's spent enough time the past few weeks cleaning up Peggy's table and picking up glasses and mugs with the faintest trace of that lipstick on the rim. If Angie were honest with herself - and she can be honest with herself, it's everyone else she has a problem with - she knows she's spent too much time staring at Peggy's lips. 

She doesn't think anyone can blame her for that. They're wonderful, expressive lips that draw her in when Peggy tells her a story, or that curve up in a fond smile that sends warm, fluttery feelings to the pit of Angie's stomach. 

Angie will deny all this knowledge, but that doesn't change that she recognises Peggy's lipstick even when said lipstick is somewhere other than Peggy's lips. It's a gorgeous red - rich like wine - and it suits Peggy just fine. It just has no business being smeared over Peggy's _friend_ 's earlobe. None at all.

Perhaps, that's petty. Angie can admit to being petty sometimes. She wishes she wasn't, because she doesn't like the churning feeling that goes along with the tightness in her chest. Even sitting on Peggy's bed, her bare feet tucked underneath her while she waits for Peggy to join her, does nothing to make it go away.

"You've been quiet," Peggy remarks as she finally sits down beside Angie, handing her a plate of the cheesecake Angie brought with her from the Automat. 

"Have I?" Angie asks idly, forcing a smile as she accepts the plate. They don't do this often enough, but at least Angie now knows Peggy isn't actively trying to avoid her.

Peggy grins, and Angie is momentarily distracted by those lips again. "Are you being coy with me?" 

"No." Angie quickly looks down at her plate, and she straightens her shoulders. She can do this. She can be friends with Peggy. It's not like this is unexpected, she'd called it ages ago. They're both adults; Angie can simply choose to not let this bother her or get in the way of their friendship. Really, that's all this is about - their friendship. "You'd tell me if you were seeing someone, wouldn't you? I mean, we're friends, right?"

"Of course we are," Peggy says quickly, giving her a bemused look. "And yes, theoretically, I would tell you if I was courting someone." Peggy hesitates. "Well, unless there's a valid reason not to."

"So is there?" Angie puts the plate in her lap and glares at Peggy. 

"Is there what?" Peggy asks, the bemused look fading, and her eyebrows knit together. It's not the first time Peggy's given her this look. It's like she's trying to figure Angie out. Like she wants to put all the pieces that make Angie _Angie_ together. It's a little unsettling.

"A reason why you're not telling me you're dating your _friend_ ," Angie demands. She has a way of thinking about Peggy's _friend_ , a particular tone that she never quite manages to keep out of her voice when she mentions him.

"My friend?" Peggy questions, blinking in confusion. 

Angie huffs and puts the plate, the cake untouched, on the coffee table. She doesn't want to spell this out, and she probably shouldn't want to flick Peggy's forehead until she puts two and two together.

"Mr. Jarvis?" Peggy says suddenly, finally catching up. "You think I'm dating Jarvis?" Peggy snorts, and then grins like that's the most absurd thing Angie has ever suggested. "Of course I'm not. He's married."

"So it's a fling then?" Angie doesn't feel any better about that.

"A fling?"

"Don't play stupid with me, English," Angie snaps, and she wraps her arms tightly around herself. "I'm not blind. I saw- your lipstick was all over him!"

"What?" Peggy asks dumbly, and it's the most infuriating thing Angie's ever seen on her.

With an agitated huff, Angie gets to her feet. She tries to put her shoes on, but she's clumsy in her haste. "Fine. Don't tell me," she tells the carpet. Her shoes keep falling over, and she gives up and snatches them up from the floor instead. She'll go barefoot. "I thought we were friends. I'm not asking you about your superspy secrets."

"Angie." Peggy's fingers grip her wrist just as Angie wants to step away. "Angie. _Look at me_."

There's something in her tone that makes Angie want to listen, but she still pulls her hand from Peggy's hold before she gives in.

"Whatever you've seen-"

"He had your lipstick on his _ear_ , Carter," Angie lifts her chin stubbornly as she glares.

"Oh!" Peggy's eyes widen in realisation, and then she laughs. Angie flinches, and she quickly takes a step back. This time Peggy has to rise to her knees to still be able to grab hold of her arm. "Angie, no. That's not-"

"Save it, English," Angie bites out the words. She stays, though, because as long as Peggy seems to want her in the room, Angie can't find it in herself to walk away. Yet.

"Angie, it's nothing like that," Peggy insists, and she rubs her thumb to the inside of Angie's wrist. 

The touch is comforting - almost tender, if Angie didn't know better. "Then what's it like?" Angie asks, her voice barely a whisper.

"He's just my friend," Peggy says slowly. Angie can't hear any double meaning in the way Peggy pronounces it. "I'm sorry I can't explain how it happened, but you have to believe me, Angie."

"I have to?" Angie says stubbornly. Just because Peggy is giving her a pleading look doesn't mean she has to forgive her just yet. Even if technically Peggy isn't doing anything wrong because they're just friends.

"I'd like you to," Peggy corrects. "I just need you to know that I'm not interested in _Jarvis_." 

Peggy raises an eyebrow at her, like Angie has to understand something more, but that's just cruel. This 'just friends' thing is cruel, as is the way Peggy brushes her thumb over Angie's palm.

"Would you like me to prove it to you?" Peggy asks quietly. Angie finds herself staring at Peggy's lips again. That lipstick really is too beautiful on her; Angie wonders if it would really taste like wine, but those are ludicrous thoughts. "Angie?"

Angie blinks and clears her throat as she tries to remember what Peggy asked. "How?"

Peggy doesn't answer, but she lets go of Angie's hand, and Angie glances away in disappointment. She can hear Peggy getting up from the bed, and then Peggy is in front of her, those same fingers tracing along Angie's jawline as Peggy studies her.

"I'm going to kiss you now," Peggy tells her. 

Angie nods mutely. She only has a brief second to wonder if it's unromantic to announce that you're going to kiss someone, and then Peggy kisses her. Angie stops wondering, stops thinking entirely. It's just a brush of lips, but it makes Angie's breath catch, and when she leans into it, Peggy is right there. 

Peggy's lipstick tastes exactly as she imagined it, but then it's not the lipstick Angie imagined, and it's not the lipstick that's intoxicating. It's Peggy; it's the curve of her lips as they press against Angie's. It's the tiny jolt down to the tip of her toes as Peggy flicks her tongue against Angie's. It's the warm press of Peggy's hand against the small of her back, and the way she pulls Angie flush against her. 

And all that? It's definitely romantic.


End file.
